A Poem about a Beloved Friend after  Eduard Uspensky

Something aches in my poor heart,

As if a termite had settled in it.

I had a friend,

But he forgot about me.

His name was Andree,

But it too seems like Sergee.

And Volodya Kruzhkov was my closest friend,

Closer than all my other close  friends.

No, not Kruzhkov, but Kvadratikov.

And we lived like a pair of brothers.

We'll sit on the divan,

And I'll say:

- Ivan,

Let's go to the Siberian forest massif,

And I'll help you, believe.

He left with his mother for Italy,

And I'm so sad about Vitaly.

Everyone tells me:

- Drop it,

Forget about this Kostya.

Klim doesn't write to you, again.

And that's okay, God bless him then.

Or maybe in this distant land  brattle

My Gleb was wounded in a heavy battle?

And what if he's sitting in Magadan

With dad on a trunk cary on?

And there are strong winds blowing anywhere,

And they don't sell envelopes never.

I feel good here in Moscow now,

And he's far away and sad low.

I'll be sad all day today in spare,

And I won't let myself go anywhere.